


Happiness In All Forms

by covetsubjugation



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Christmas, Complicated Relationships, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Dinners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:38:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covetsubjugation/pseuds/covetsubjugation
Summary: “I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him,” Lafayette murmured. Eyes lingering on his mouth.


  “Really?” Hercules breathed. His heart rate just picked up, embarrassingly enough.


  “No,” the man laughed. “But I am going to tell that to everyone and they are going to die.”

*Thomas and James are getting a divorce. Alexander is leaving to look for a better life. Lafayette needs an emergency date. Aaron is struggling. Peggy just wants her sister back.
What happens when everyone has baggage but no one knows what to do?
A story about dysfunctional families and intersecting lives and finding happiness, even if it's not necessarily what you thought you wanted in the first place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Love The Coopers

As Thomas stood in front of the kitchen window, eyes fixated on the wet clumps of snow falling from the sky, he only had one thought in his mind.

The house was too big.

Why the fuck did they buy such a big house? It had been at least 20 years since they left college, why were they still living in the same huge house with all their friends, friends who barely stayed in said house anymore, and now all their friends were coming home from Christmas and they still weren’t done decorating and _why the fuck did they buy such a big house?_

A particularly loud sniffle caught his attention. He pulled his focus back from the overcast skies, turned it to the man who stood behind him. James was pulling the turkey from the oven with pointed force, banging the trays down hard enough that Thomas was surprised their countertops hadn’t cracked yet.

“Have you taken your medication?”

A too-long beat. An aggravated sigh before James hissed a “Yes” in his direction.

James was always ill, a perpetual cold that seemed to plague him always. There was no cure for it, just a line of bottles of antihistamines lining their bathroom sink.

“Can I get some help here?” James hissed again.

Now, it was his turn to sigh. He drifted over to his husband. “What do you need?” he asked tiredly.

Somehow that was enough to set James off.

“Honestly,” he snapped. “I have to do everything around this house.”

“You asked me for help,” Thomas snapped back. “And now that I try to, you just sneer at me. What do you want from me?”

James didn’t answer, stabbed his finger at the pot of potatoes boiling away atop the stove. He kept his head down, glaring down at the turkey with a viciousness Thomas privately felt should be reserved for axe murderers and people who destroy expensive granite countertops.

The potatoes were about done, he only had to drain the pot of its water. It wasn’t exactly a challenging task; his mind drifted again. Alexander would be coming home today, he mused. Lafayette and Aaron as well. The Schuyler Sisters had already texted ahead, emojis galore; they would be home in the late afternoon.

That’s a lot of rooms he had to set up, he thought. Considered the state of the rooms, decided they could do with a dusting and maybe a change of sheets. Otherwise, they were fine.

Well, not really. Their dinner was behind. He had no idea whether they could finish it in time before their guests arrived. It would be tragic if Angelica arrived before the turkey was done.

“Running late?” she would ask with that patronising smile.

His hand tightened on the saucepan. He nearly upset the milk and butter mixture off the stove.

The decorations weren’t fully up yet. The Christmas tree was looking a little bare in some spots. The fireplace could do with an extra garland, and perhaps they had time to string fairy lights in the rooms before everyone arrived. Had they swept the floor yet?

At least the drinks were done and chilling in the fridge.

Behind him, there was a yelp. His hair whipped him in the face as he turned. James was cradling his hand to his chest, scowling down at the tray the turkey was perched in. The oven mitt, threadbare where the index finger and thumb joined, was tossed to the side. If Thomas looked closely, he could see tears gathering in James’ eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, making for the first aid kit they kept under the counter. James turned his head away.

“You don’t have to pretend you care,” he muttered.

Thomas ignored the jibe, hoisted the first aid kit up onto the kitchen counter, next to the offending tray, and searched through it for the burn ointment. He reached for James’ hand gently, pulled it over so he could apply the ointment to the reddening area. The moment the ointment touched James’ skin, the man snatched his hand back.

“I said, you don’t have to pretend you care.”

Thomas could feel his blood pressure starting to rise.

“You’re injured, I am _helping_ ,” he snarls. “Jesus, I try to do one nice thing for you and you bite my head off. What’s wrong with you?”

“You’ve never cared!” James snatched the ointment from Thomas’ hand, applied it on himself, wincing as he did. “What’s the point of pretending now? We’re already getting a divorce.”

Thomas slammed his hands down on the counter, huffed angrily. “We said,” he began, “we said we won’t bring this up until after Christmas.”

The other man folded his arms over his chest, opened his mouth to say something but Thomas cut him off.

“One last Christmas! We agreed, one last Christmas where we act like a happy family for the benefit of your friends, and then we can give up the farce and tell them once the damn year is over.”

“They are your friends too,” James argued. “And you were the one who wanted one last Christmas, I wanted to tell them several months ago.”

Thomas ignored the slight clench in his stomach, pushed aside the lingering hope from all those months ago that their marriage could be saved.

“Well, it’s too late now,” he gestured at the falling snow outside their house, the ticking clock that counted down the hours to Christmas dinner. “It’s Christmas fucking day.”

James made to grab the turkey, changed his mind and went for the milk mixture on the stove. Thomas stepped around him, swept the ointment back into the first aid kit and stuffed the whole thing back into its slot under the counter. The ingredients for the apple pie sat on the far-side counter, the wrapped butter sweating at room temperature. Flour, salt and sugar went into a bowl. He cringed at the wet slide of the butter in his hand, tossed it in after. Behind him, James had dragged the electric beater out of the cupboard’s dark depths, and now the loud grind of the machine filled the room. Thomas felt the tension fester under the noise. He worked it out on the dough mixture.

He could still hear James’ sniffing.

The electric beater shut off. He handed the salt shaker over, an olive branch. In return, James did not snatch it out of his hand. Pepper and salt in the mash potatoes, James’ shaky sigh as he set it aside.

“One last Christmas,” James said. “Fuck you, Thomas Jefferson.”

“Fuck you too, James Madison,” he returned.

*

“No,” he murmured to himself. “No no no no no.”

The split-flap display continued to announce that his flight home was delayed.

Around him, people pushed and shoved. Similar cries of dismay rose from the back of the crowd as they read the announcement. From across the departure hall, a particularly angry person yelled at the customer service personnel. A baby wailed. A headache was starting to build up in the back of his skull, and he was growing too hot in his coat, and his flight was still fucking delayed.

“Merde,” Lafayette muttered and promptly shoved his way out of the crowd. Someone yelped in pain behind him as his suitcase rolled over their foot. He was too tired to care.

A flight delay. He was already going to be one of the latest to go back home for Christmas dinner, and now his flight was delayed for another 5 hours because of the growing storm outside. Lafayette pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped on Whatsapp. The Schuyler sisters were the last to have replied in the group, all excitement and holiday cheer. Lafayette couldn’t say the same.

Painstaking, he began to type out his message. His other hand was occupied with dragging his carry-on around, he only had his thumb to write with.

**Christmas Dinner  
** _aaron, angelica, alex, eliza, james, lafayette, peggy, thomas_

**lafayette:** flight’s delayed will be late back home

**angelica:** Oh no!

**angelica:** This is why you always take the earlier flight back home

**james:** it’s alright laf we’ll see you when we see you

Lafayette only looked up when he nearly walked into someone else. Somehow, his feet had lead him to the airport bar without him noticing. It was nearly empty, too early in the morning, even for the most desperate. There was a Starbucks nearby, probably a more respectable choice than drinking at 10 in the morning.

He looked at the coffee chain, overflowing with people, and looked back at the bar; There was an empty seat right in front of the bartender. He pocketed his phone, shrugged and stepped inside. He had nothing to lose.

The seats next to him were filled. On his left, a woman anxiously twisting the wedding ring on her finger as she talked into her headset.

“I don’t know,” he overheard her saying. “He texted saying he can’t make it. A cancelled flight?”

He tuned her out.

The guy next to his right had his head buried in his arms on the counter. Lafayette watched his back rise and fall with every breath, assumed he had passed out after drinking too much. The bartender watched him, patiently waiting for his order. Lafayette found himself staring at the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve as he opened his mouth.

“Can I get a Dirty Martini, shaken over ice? Thanks.”

The bartender shrugged, brown hair falling into his eyes as he turned away. Next to him, the guy had pried himself off the counter at the sound of his voice. His curly hair, cropped close to his skull, peeked out from under his grey beanie. “I’ll pay for his drink,” he said to the bartender; Lafayette could see him pulling an earbud out from his ear.

His head was pounding. “I’ll pay for my own drink, thanks” he called down to the bartender; his nametag said his name was Raf. Raf glanced back at the guy next to him, who shrugged in response. Lafayette rummaged through his bag for his painkillers.

Joy, he thought to himself, usually I only get sick after I get on the plane. Even my sickness is more punctual than my flight.

The guy next to him cleared his throat.

You would think he could take a hint, he thought to himself viciously. “Yes?” he asked. His tone was colder than the weather outside. The guy scrubbed at his own hair through his beanie, face suddenly shy. Somehow, despite being much bigger than him, he had shrunk into himself.

“Uh, you-” he gestured at Lafayette in general, then at the drink Raf had silently set down in front of him- “you okay?”

Lafayette couldn’t watch the movement of his hand, it aggravated his headache. “No,” he answered shortly, tossed back the painkiller with his martini. “I have a headache.”

The other man watched him with slightly widened eyes. “I don’t think you were meant to do that,” he said and Lafayette shrugged. He kept his eyes fixed on Raf, who was furiously texting in the corner.

The man bit on his lower lap, tapped his hands against the counter as he fidgeted in the silence. “I’m Hercules, by the way,” he said, pointing at himself. “Hercules Mulligan.”

Lafayette turned back to look at him. “Were you bullied a lot as a child?” he asked. Realised only after the words left his mouth that that was a bit rude. He started to apologise, but stopped when he realised Hercules had started to laugh.

“A bit,” he answered. “I don’t think my parents thought my name through before they gave it to me.” He had a nice laugh.

He shook himself out of his stupor. “I’m Lafayette,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand.

Hercules raised his eyebrows. “Are you from France?” he asked. Lafayette nodded, gesturing at himself.

“I was born there,” he answered.

“Why are you in America then? Holiday?” Hercules looked a bit dejected at the thought, but brightened up when Lafayette shook his head.

“I immigrated over in my teens,” he answered. “I actually just came back from France, I’m trying to go home from Christmas.” He looked pointedly over his shoulder, glared at the snow through the window opposite the bar like he could stop it with sheer force of anger. “Guess I’ll be late for dinner.”

Hercules looked concerned. “Is there anything I can go?” He reached out like he was trying to comfort Lafayette but stopped before he could touch him. Lafayette smiled. “If you could stop the snow, that would be great.”

Raising an eyebrow, Hercules snapped his fingers, gazing heroically out at the dismal weather. Lafayette’s eyes darted towards the window, found himself actually disappointed when it continued to snow. He looked back at Hercules who grinned apologetically.

“Sorry, I’m only known for my strength. I can give the god of weather a call though?”

Lafayette snorted and Hercules beamed, proud of his joke.

“I can’t believe you,” Lafayette said, reaching for the rest of his martini. He didn’t miss the way Hercules’ eyes glanced over him.

*

If you had asked him when would be a good time to drop in on him at the diner, Alex’s answer would have been _never_.

They were constantly busy, nonstop stream of customers in and out the door. Drunk girls stumbling in after ladies’ night out, office workers looking for their next hot cup of coffee and an escape from the bitter cold, surly old men who came in only to grouch and complain. Alex hated the bell dangling over the door. A full day’s shift meant having to listen it to jangling every 30 seconds.

It didn’t help that it was 8 in the morning. People were schlepping in, bags heavy under their eyes, yawning through every other word. Alex took someone’s order with a bland smile, refilled someone else’s coffee while trying to subtly crack his back. Listened to a low murmur of early morning conversations, mixed with the scraping noises of metal cutlery against cheap porcelain plates.

The TV was on, overly enthusiastic morning show drivel. Alex retied his ponytail, prayed for reprieve from Good Morning America.

Finally, he came in. Head bowed, bowtie neatly tied, tweed jacket thinning at the elbows, face set in an almost impassive scowl. George sat at his booth, removed his glasses from his jacket pocket, sat them on his face and peered down at the menu. Glanced out of the window in between pages. Alex dawdled over, cocked a hip against the table as he retrieved his notepad from his apron.

“George,” he greeted.

George grunted in return, tapped his hand against the menu. Alex looked at him from over his notepad.

“Do you want the special?” he asked.

George raised an eyebrow at him. “What day is it?”

“Sunday,” Alex answered. Winced at the look George shot him, glanced over his shoulder to look back at the kitchen. The cook yawned as he prodded at the scrambled eggs. His assistant was nowhere to be seen. “Yeah,” he agreed slowly. Looked back at George. “Yeah, Sunday’s not so special.”

George looked over the menu again. Alex tapped his pencil against the notepad. He and George both know the menu like the back of their hand. The older man just wasn’t really human until he has had his first cup of coffee.

George grunted again. Alex took pity on his sleep-befuddled state. “How about pancakes?” he suggested.

George moued in consideration. “Can I get that with the hashbrowns?” Alex nodded as he scribbles down the order. “You want to get your scrambled eggs and coffee too?” he queried and George tapped the menu decisively. “Sold,” he declared and he looked up at Alex with his first smile. Alex grinned back, went to put in the order with the chef. The assistant was hiding in the corner all along.

He went back to his regular customer with the coffee pot, poured it into one of the chipped mugs that was always present in the diner. The mugs were all of a different design, no one consistent look. The only similarity was that all of them were chipped and probably shouldn’t be used to serve customers with.

George had pulled out the daily newspaper, was staring down the daily Sudoku puzzle. He blindly grappled for the mug with one hand, winced as the hot coffee burned his tongue. “Are you celebrating Christmas?” he asked. Alex looked over the Sudoku puzzle, tapped one of the boxes and answered “Four” before registering George’s question.

“Hmm?” he hummed, “Yeah.” Down the diner, a customer leaned back with a grimace. “Oi,” he called down. “The coffee’s cold.” Alex responded with his own grimace, made to move over to him, but George grabbed onto his wrist.

“Sit down,” he ordered. “You’re fine.”

There wasn’t really much to consider, Javier had already moved to refill the coffee. Alex shrugged and plopped down on the seat opposite George. The other man pushed the newspaper over to him.

“Are you going to your family?” George asked. Alex thought about explaining again that they weren’t actually family, just college friends who never got around to getting out of each other’s lives, held back just because.

“Yeah,” he responded again. Filled in a couple more boxes.

“You know they aren’t actually family, right? Just a bunch of friends who I’ve known since college and never got around to breaking up with.”

George scoffed. “You’ve been out of college for over a decade. You see them more than you see your biological family; I think they can be considered family at this point.” Alex didn’t argue. From down the diner again, the customer turned around to glower at him.

“Oi, can I actually get some fucking service over here?” Alex looked at Javier, who shrugged apologetically. He sighed, scribbled in a couple more numbers, pushed the newspaper back to George.

“Duty calls,” he said and plodded over to the guy. He smiled at him blandly, refilled barely touched coffee mugs for everyone at the table. The guy sighed and tsked condescendingly in his direction. Alex pretended he had gone mysteriously deaf. Resolved to take a little longer to get their check.

The kitchen bell rang. George’s order. Steam rose from the plate, chipped like everything else. He served it to the man, sat back down across from him. Stole a swig of coffee from George, ignoring the weight of his gaze as he scanned over the puzzle again. George had filled in about five more boxes in the short time he was been gone.

In between shoving pancakes in his mouth, George stopped. Gestured outside at the cold. “You know what I hate about Christmas?” he whispered almost conspiratorially. “Everyone gets extremely caught up in the gift giving process. But not the right part. They got caught up in the quota. They want to buy everyone a present, but there’s no actual thought in it. Bah!”

It’s the most Alex had ever heard him say. He leaned back in his seat. The puzzle was about a quarter done. “You okay, old man?” he asked and received a glare for his trouble. He ignored it, stared at the almost invisible fuzz of grey hair at George’s temple as if to prove a point.

George glared harder. Snatched his coffee back.

*

“Look, I know,” Peggy hissed down the phone. The sales assistant gave her Concerned Eyebrows. Peggy ignored her in favour of gripping her phone a little tighter to express her displeasure.

She walked away from the array of leather bags and wallets, sniffed at the smell of leather. Her own wallet had started to flake. It weighed too lightly in her hand. It didn’t help that her hand was starting to sweat around it. The plastic bag dangling from her fingers cut unpleasantly into her fingers.

“She’s your sister, dear,” Maria hummed back. Her voice crackled with interference. Peggy shook her head as if Maria could see her down the line.

“I know,” she sighed. “But you know what she’s like.”

“Eliza is easier to handle,” she continued, marching through the store. Her face was purposefully angry. The sales assistants scattered. “She actually appreciates whatever gift she is given. And she doesn’t purposefully buy overly expensive gifts just to prove a point.”

Maria hummed again. It was an old rant. She was used to it.

“Just,” Peggy spit in frustration, “Angelica is going to spend a fuckton of money on some ultimately useless gift and we’re going to have to smile and pretend like we will actually use it when we won’t and she is going to be super condescending no matter what we buy, because it won’t be as expensive as whatever she bought.”

She glared down at the bag in her hand. Eliza’s gift was nestled inside. She huffed in an effort to calm down. Maria, on the other line, sensing that her rant was over for now, picked up the conversation.

“So if you know she is going to be condescending, why don’t you just literally buy anything for her? You can’t win no matter what.”

“Which is what frustrates me!” Another shopper reared back in alarm when Peggy nearly smacked her while raising her arms in irritation. “No matter what, I can’t fucking win!”

A soccer mum glared at her, gestured at her young children in her buggy. Peggy glared back.

“Honestly,” she continued, taking another angry march around the department store. “I should just one-up her in this game. She wants to buy me expensive shit? I’ll donate a shit ton of money in her name to a charity. She can keep her materialistic shit, we’re saving the world.”

Maria clicked her tongue in understanding, but the sound was lost under the sudden chorus of hallelujah erupting in Peggy’s head. Next to her, in a glass casing, was a brooch. It was clearly meant to be a flower, green gems surrounding a big white one set in the center. The flower was surrounded by more white gems, then more green gems. The leaves of the flower were made with smaller white gems, twisting in a way that was supposed to emulate the natural movement of actual leaves.

It was truly hideous. It was fucking expensive.

“Maria, babe,” she breathed down the phone. “I’ll call you back.” She hung up before she can hear her girlfriend’s reply.

“Excuse me,” Peggy asked the bored sales assistant in her sweetest voice. “How much is th-”

“57 hundred dollars,” the assistant cut her off. Peggy managed to stop her jaw from falling open in time. The sales assistant wasn’t even looking at her. Her wallet weighed too lightly in her hand.

“Hmm,” Peggy hummed. She was aiming for nonchalance. She was missing it so badly that they weren’t even in the same plane of existence.

“Can I take a look?” she asked. The sales assistant sighed in exasperation, hoisted the whole tray of brooches out from the glass casing. Slammed it down on top. The brooches shook in their places inside the velvet tray.

Across from them, another customer called out to the sales assistant. Her coat was of a good warm material. Her bag was real leather. Her fingers glittered with rings. The sales assistant was very happy to serve them instead.

Her fingers were sweating around her wallet again. The brooch was way too expensive. There was no way she could afford it, not with her flaky wallet and debit card with negligible amounts of money. She should just slink away, leave with whatever shreds of dignity she still had, and donate to a charity. UNICEF. RED. Planned Parenthood.

Angelica’s smug face appeared in her mind’s eye.

She started coughing. Bent over from the force of it. Put her face so close to the glass casing that her breath was fogging up its pristine cleaniness. Swept up the brooch with her hand and popped it into her mouth. Kept her hand over her mouth like she was being polite.

The metal of the brooch tasted like blood in her mouth.

She staggered out, one foot in front of the other, kept walking until she could see the door of the department store, and the snooty sales assistance was far behind her. Then she picked up the pace.

Her heart was racing in her chest. Every beat sounded in her ears. I did it, she thought blindly. I can’t believe I just did that.

She was so close to the door. 10 more meters. 5 more. 2 more.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Mam? Can you step aside please?”

*

When his daughter first refused to get out of bed, then refused to brush her teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, or literally do anything that you are usually required to do in the morning, Aaron stepped out of the bathroom where he had left Theodosia brushing her teeth and took a moment for himself to cry.

Aaron had days where he really missed his wife. This was one of those days.

He was already running late for work, and every second that he had to spend pacifying Theodosia so she would do whatever she was supposed to do, just added on to his growing anxiety. His coffee was growing cold on the dining table, their bowls of porridge congealing, and Theodosia was still not out of the bathroom.

“Theodosia, sweetheart, you need to hurry up,” he called through the bathroom door. “You need to get dressed and eat breakfast so we can drop you off at Uncle Thomas and James’ house before I go for work.”

There was a determined silence from inside the bathroom, stretching on for a beat too long. Aaron had to knock on the door. “Sweetheart?”

The door creaked open and Theodosia appeared sullenly. Aaron breathed a sigh of relief as he reached for her hand. Theodosia grabbed his hand willingly, but pulled back in reluctance for a second before she followed Aaron down to the dining room.

The two of them ate in silence, Aaron shoving each spoonful determinedly into his mouth as he continuously checked the ticking clock. “So,” he said through a disgusting mouthful of cold porridge and lukewarm coffee. “We’ll drop you off at your uncles’ houses before Daddy goes to work. I’m sure Uncle Thomas and Uncle James will have something for you to play with. I’ll come back around dinnertime and we’ll have Christmas dinner together and then we’ll come home, is that alright?”

His daughter nodded, eyes fixed on her bowl of porridge.

If Theodosia was here, Aaron thought desperately, they wouldn’t have to deal with this.

Or rather, they would have time to deal with this. She wouldn’t let Theodosia stew, would have coaxed the reason of their daughter’s bad mood out by now, would already have solutions in mind. But when it came to him, a single parent, Aaron just constantly felt two steps behind.

The stack of bills on his desk kept piling up, the lump of unironed clothes in their laundry room increasing by the day, the watch on his wrist ticked away single-mindedly, reminding him he was late, late, late.

Finally, Theodosia was done with her breakfast and Aaron hurried her to put on her shoes while he grabbed his workbag. Car keys in hand, he rushed her into the car, biting his lip at the growing look of distress on her face. He kept the car radio off; he couldn’t bear to hear mindless gibberish at this moment.

“Dad?” he heard Theodosia say. He glanced over at her.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“I-” she bit her lip. “I failed an exam at school.”

His stomach twisted. The watch ticked on.

“Which exam?”

“History.”

History. He was never good at history. Theodosia, on the other hand, was. She was the one who had helped him with history in school. He sighed. Kept his eyes on the road.

“Okay,” he said, more to himself than his daughter. “Okay.”

“Are you angry?”

“No, dear,” he said, signalling left. Thomas and James’ house was just down the street. “I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed.”

Disappointed at himself for being unable to help. For not noticing it sooner. For constantly not having enough time for his daughter. He thought over his sentence in his head, realised how it was going to be misconstrued. But they were already at Thomas and James’ house and Theodosia has already left the car and was halfway down the walkway.

She cut a desolate figure all alone.

It was Aaron’s turn to bite his lip. He pulled out his phone, debated texting his daughter to explain.

_I didn’t mean I was disappointed in you_ , the words formed in his head. _I meant I’m disappointed in myself. I’m sorry, Theo, for failing you._

He noted the time on his phone. He was running late. He had to go,

*

“So,” Hercules asked, gesturing at the half-empty bar around them. “What’s your story?”

“What?” Lafayette returned, frowning in confusion. He hadn’t eaten much in the last twelve hours. Having alcohol as his first meal of the day probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

“As in-” Hercules leaned forward to rest his forearms against the counter- “What do you do? For a living or otherwise?”

“Ah,” Lafayette clicked his tongue in understanding. Set his glass down. “I’m a writer.”

The other man beamed at him. “Anything I might have read?”

“That depends,” Lafayette said. Weight pressing down on his shoulders. “Are you familiar with the Pier 1 Imports catalogue?”

Hercules’ eyes widened dramatically. “Fall Festival 2016,” he said with a fake reverence. Lafayette returned the gesture with his own overdramatic gasp.

“You know my work?” he breathed and the two of them broke into chuckles. He felt a little lighter.

When they trail off, Lafayette sighed.

“Yeah, I do copywriting,” he explained to Hercules. “Freelance. But that’s not what I want to do. I’ve been writing novels for a while. I just did a play. Something about unknown destinations and everyone not knowing what we want to do in life.” Before the other man could say anything else, Lafayette stretched his hands open wide. Mimed an explosion. Or a poof. “We closed in a day.”

Hercules winced in sympathy. “Sorry,” he said and Lafayette waved it aside.

“S’not your fault,” he said. He made to grab his glass but it was empty. He could feel Hercules watching him.

“I meant,” the other man continued, “I’m sorry it happened. It sounds like a good play.” He pushed Lafayette’s glass a little further away from him. Raf spied the movement and came over from his spot in the corner to sweep the glass away. He didn’t stop texting the whole time.

Lafayette imagined what Raf could possibly be texting. _Some sad weirdos are in my bar drinking at 10 in the morning._ Or _I’m serving a developing alcoholic right now._

Or maybe Lafayette wasn’t the subject of his texts at all.

“Hey,” he heard from his left and he turned to see Hercules looking over at him. “You wanna get out of here?”

Lafayette half-froze. He thought of a half-empty bed. Of people slipping out in the middle of the night. Of the one person who was not texting him. Of the one person who was with her actual family right now, having a good time, probably not thinking about him. Of Adrienne and her real husband.

Hercules was still watching him.

“I meant,” he said. “You have hours to kill before your flight boards again. You probably shouldn’t spend all that time in a bar. Sorry, I should have been clearer. You’re the writer, not me.” He smiled sheepishly.

Lafayette looked back at him. Grabbed his suitcase from where he had stashed under the bar “Let’s go.”

*

“I swear this is a misunderstanding,” Peggy begged as she was led out by the police officer. Everybody had their eyes on her. Her face burned red with shame.

“I’ve done nothing wrong, officer-” She twisted around to catch a glimpse of his name tag- “John! I’ve done nothing wrong, Officer John.”

John continued to keep her marching forward, his face an impassive mask. He led her out of the department store, led her towards the mall’s parking lot. More people were staring.

“Come on,” she begged. “I have kids, I have a family.” John cut her a look and she quelled. “Okay, I don’t actually have kids. But I have a family! I’ve got a Christmas dinner tonight. I’m supposed to be seeing people I haven’t seen in ages tonight.”

No response.

“My sister will kill me, okay? She’s a real stuck up bitch.”

The same impassive mask.

“It’s Christmas! Where is your Christmas spirit? Where’s your compassion?”

John finally looked at her. Peggy saw the light at the end of the tunnel. She got through to him.

“So it’s all a misunderstanding?” he asked.

She nodded emphatically.

“So how did the brooch get in your mouth?”

She had not been seeing light at the end of the tunnel. What she was seeing was in fact the light off the flames from hell.

“I thought it was a lozenge?” she tried.

John led her to his police car.

*

It was almost 10. Alex was still sitting with George. Most of the morning rush customers had cleared out by then and Alex was free to do what he wanted. Which turned out to be sitting with one of his regular customers and chat about other customers.

George took a sip of his recently refilled coffee, gestured with a tilt of his head at the lone customer sitting in the booth across from him. “Charlie always dances when he gets his food,” he murmurs and right on cue, Charlie’s order arrives and he gives a delighted body wiggle. Alex smiled at the sight, turned to see George smiling too.

He himself secretly pointed at an old couple across the diner. “Jamie always puts on lipstick when she’s out with Andrew,” he told his companion. Jamie looked over at the both of them and grinned. She had lipstick smeared on her dentures. Andrew laughed at the sight. Alex waved a hand in acknowledgement. George raised his coffee mug like he was toasting her but his mouth twitched in the corner.

He looked back at Alex, acted like he was glancing out of the window but Alex knew he was actually watching everyone’s reflection.

Outside, the sky grew darker. People hurry past, bundled up in their heavy coats. The clouds were getting heavy, he noted to himself. Tried to remember whether he closed his window before leaving the house for work today.

George coughed, set his mug down a little too heavily on the table. “Pamela always keeps the money for the tip in her cat purse,” he brought up. Alex glanced over his shoulder. True enough, Pamela sat at her booth behind them, patiently counting out coin after coin for the tip. Next to her, Javier waited good-naturedly. He cracked jokes while Pamela counted, delighting the old lady.

Alex turned back to George, ready to bring up Javier as the next subject in their little game, but before he could say anything, Andrew and Jamie came toddling up to the both of them. His first thought was that they had somehow overheard their game and were here to yell, but then he saw the matching looks of fondness on their faces.

“Alex!” Andrew greeted. A wrinkled hand reached out to pat Alex’s shoulder, and Alex smiled up at the two of them. “Andrew, Jamie,” he returned.

Jamie shook her head in sorrow. “We are so sad to see you go,” she sighed. Andrew patted her shoulder in solidarity. Shoulder pats were his thing. Alex got used to it by the third time they came around.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Andrew said and Alex returned the sentiments. He stood up to show them to the door, but he spied Javier out of the corner of his eye. Javier raised his eyebrows significantly, stepped forward to take over Alex’s duty. Pamela had evidently finished counting out the tip and she stood behind Javier, ready to leave as well. She spotted Alex, raised her hand and mouthed “Take care” in his direction. Alex returned the gesture. Watched Javier show them all out. Turned back to George.

Creased forehead. Heavy eyebrows meeting in the middle. Downward turn to his mouth.

“You’re leaving?” he asked and Alex felt a slight tug of guilt in his stomach. He shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said and reached for George’s coffee mug. The older man pulled it back. The guilt tugged again, a little heavier this time. “It’s my last day.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” George demanded. His fingers clenched tightly around the handle of his mug. “You tell everybody else in this diner, but not me?” His voice was rising. The other customers twisted around in their chairs to look at the two of them.

Alex hurried to explain. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he hissed, glancing around at the other customers. “It’s like that play I showed you.”

(Laf had sent over a copy of his play’s script for everyone to read. Alex borrowed it when everyone else was done, brought it to the diner and spent three hours ignoring the other customers in favour of showing it to George. Translated the whole thing for George, who couldn’t read or speak a word of French, in one sitting.)

“Everyone has some sort of unknown destination in their life,” he trids. “I’m just trying to figure out mine.”

George spluttered. “Where are you even going?”

Alexander shrugged. “New York.”

“Expensive,” George spat bitterly. Alexander felt the worn leather of his watch acutely.

“Why can’t you figure out your “unknown destination” here?” George continued. “What’s wrong with here? You can figure out what you want to do here before settling down in places you’ve never even set foot in before.”

_What’s wrong with here?_ Alexander wanted to say. _Can’t you feel it? How his brain feels like it is permanently filled with static. How every breath feels like tight and constrained. How every beat of his heart feels like his own personal timer, ticking down to the day he dies._

“I just need a change,” he forced out but George was already shaking his head.

“I don’t understand, son,” he griped. “Nothing changes when you leave. It all comes with you. Baggage comes with you. You can take your time.”

He shook his head again. “I’m not even upset about that,” he muttered. “I’m upset that you didn’t even bother telling me.”

“Why would I bother telling you? You’re just a customer.”

Fuck.

George froze in the middle of reaching for his coffee mug. Settled back. Removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“Now you’re just lying to yourself,” he said. “You know what I think, Alex?”

His voice was rising again.

“I think you’re being ridiculous. Everyone doesn’t know what they are doing in their life, but not everyone feels the urge to run away to a different city just to figure it out. And even if you run, what makes you think you’ll be the one to figure it out over there? And you’re running away, without telling me, just like how your father ran away from you when you were younger.”

Alex stood up abruptly. His ears were ringing.

“I told you that,” he began quietly, “in confidence. You know I’ve never told anyone else that before. You’re the first person I told. And you throw it back in my face.”

“I guess I was right about not telling you I’m going.”

He swiped George’s coffee mug. It was still half-full. The older man was still looking at him. No, glaring at him. Alex didn’t make eye contact.

“You can pay up front with Javier.”

He went back to the kitchen. Slammed the coffee mug down in the sink so hard it cracks. Pretended George was calling after him.

*

Pie in the oven. Turkey resting on the kitchen counter. Glazed ham baking in the second oven. Thomas was struggling with the gingerbread in the corner, the loud grind of the whisk hurting his ears as he added in what seemed like endless amounts of dry ingredients. He hadn’t even added in any of the wet ingredients yet. They were sat next to a cup of hot water, steaming away.

Aaron’s daughter had arrived over 2 hours ago, alone. She seemed upset. When James had gone to ask if she was alright, she had simply nodded. Offered to help with Christmas dinner. James said she could help with frosting the Christmas cookies. Of course, in order for her to help with frosting the cookies, there actually had to be cookies to frost. And if Thomas didn’t hurry up with the fruitcake, there would be no cookies at all.

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter. Thomas huffed. Added in the wet ingredients. Poured in the hot water too quickly and jumped back when it splattered out of the mixing bowl.

Finally, finally, Thomas finished with the batter. He poured it out into a nearby pan, washed the mixing bowl and cleaned the mixer before passing it back over to James. Escaped out of the kitchen as James called out to Theodosia.

With her help, he managed to prepare the batter for the Christmas cookies. Theodosia looked a little less upset when she was busy focusing on the food. Over the grind of the mixer, he could just hear Thomas moving about the house.

The other man sauntered back in just as the ovens dinged. He had fairy lights draped over one shoulder. With a cloth draped over the worn oven mitt, he fetched the pie and glazed ham out of the oven. Theodosia cracked her first smile, praising how the food looked and smelled. Thomas preened dramatically.

Theodosia looked just like her mother, he mused as he and Theo brought the gingerbread and cookies to the ovens. This would be their first Christmas without one of the Theodosias.

He caught Thomas studying Theodosia as well, found him staring at she checked her phone over and over again. Shrugged when Thomas looked at him for an explanation.

He missed this actually. The two of them being able to silently communicate. Being in each other’s presence without getting into a shouting match. Just being with each other. The two of them had met in high school, married in their second year of college. They had known each other for almost two decades.

A lot of people had told them when they got married that it was too soon. That they were still too young to settle down. They hadn’t listened at the time. And now, they were getting a divorce.

He bowed his head.

“You okay?” Thomas murmured. He had somehow come to stand next to James without him noticing. He inched back.

“I’m fine,” he breathed. It came off a little too harsh and Thomas frowned.

“Okay,” he pacified and James wrestled the pie and ham from their trays. Deposited them on the nice china and went to wash the grease from the trays. They steamed when they were hit by the water.

Theodosia’s mouth was downturned again. James could relate.

*

“What do you mean I’m fired?” he asked.

His boss shook his head. Rolled his eyes.

“I mean you’re fired, Mr Burr,” he drawled. He jabbed a finger in the direction of the clock. Gestured at the mess of articles on top of his desk. “You’ve been consistently coming in late. Your articles are consistently late as well and of poor quality. I’ve been receiving feedback from your coworkers, who all express concern about your well-being and your work.”

He wanted to keep a stoic face. Couldn’t. His boss looked at him and looked away, uncomfortable with the distress apparent on his face. Sighed as if it burdened him greatly to express sympathy.

“We’re downsizing, Mr Burr,” he said. Rapped his knuckles on the wooden desk. “It’s a dying industry. It’s kill or be killed.”

His boss looked at him, looked away again.

“You just couldn’t keep up,” he said softly. “Pack your things and leave please.”

He stumbled out of the office, pretended he didn’t see the way how some people ducked their heads immediately, acting as if they weren’t gossiping about him, ignored the way others blatantly stared at him.

There was a box already on his desk, set atop all of his work. George Frederick’s work probably. He could see the man peering at him over the top of the cubicle, a derisive smile perched on his face.

He packed his desk. Stacks of paper. Binders. Books he had borrowed to do research for his articles. His laptop. Pictures of his family. He placed them face down so he didn’t have to see smiling faces.

“Aaron!” he heard George crow. Saw him strutting over, pretending like he had no idea what Burr was doing. Fake gasp from his right. “Oh no, are you leaving?”

Aaron ignored him. up until he felt George rest a hand on his shoulder blade. He shook it off. Grabbed the box and stood up. George stood there, pouting exaggeratedly, shaking his head solemnly.

“You were a great writer.” Each word dripped honey. Vanilla extract, Aaron thought. Smelled great until you actually tasted it straight from the bottle. “I’m so sorry to see you go. Take care of yourself, okay?”

George reached out as if he was going to shake his hand. His wrist was limp. Weak. Aaron knew George knew he couldn’t actually reach his hand to shake it. Stared him down. Thought about killing him as his final act.

The other man dropped his hand with a girlish simper. “I hope to see more of your work in the future, Aaron.” More vanilla extract.

“Go fuck yourself, Frederick,” he returned. Hoisted the box and left for the carpark.

He dumped his box in the boot, crawled into the driver’s seat and buried his head in his hands. Felt tears pricking at his eyes again and let them fall. Sobbed like a newborn babe.

Daughter who wasn’t coping in school. Dead wife. Struggling father who didn’t know how to take care of his only child and couldn’t keep his damn act together long enough to not be fired.

The tears kept coming. He kept crying.

He let himself break down until the tears stopped running. Sat back the moment he felt like he was relatively under control. Looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Bloodshot eyes, dribbling nose, wrecked expression. He looked like a mess.

He cleaned himself up as well as he could, took a moment to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Just one Christmas,” he said to himself. Wiped his eyes once more and drove out of the parking lot and made his way to Thomas and James’ house. “Just one day to get through. One day at a time.”

*

She sat fuming in the back of the car. John could feel her glaring at the back of his head, like she could burn a hole straight through it. He ignored her. Refused to make eye contact with her in the rearview mirror like she wanted to. Kept his eyes fixed on the road.

He had cuffed her hands in front of her so she could sit comfortably. Even allowed her to text her family, even though that was against the rules. He does have compassion, okay?

They speed down street after street. Finally, she slumped back. Turned to watch strangers out of the car window, watch them disappear as the car keeps driving forward. In front of the car, on the sidewalks, lines of Santas walked to work. Bell ringers for The Salvation Army desperately called for donations. People bundled up in coats lurched away from them, speedwalking in an effort to get home sooner. One man stormed out of a diner, shaved head bowed against the cold, hint of a bowtie peeking out from under his heavy coat. He caught Peggy staring at the same man.

“Do they teach you how to be a robot in the police academy?” she asked finally. “Or is this something that comes naturally to you?” He dragged his eyes away from her reflection to stare down the road again. It had stopped snowing. He did not reply.

Peggy, as she had introduced herself as earlier, huffed. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to hardened criminals,” she began, stressing the last two words exaggeratedly, “but when it’s just some poor girl in the back of your car, clearly at her wit’s end, young and foolhardy, and you don’t even _try_ to make conversation?” Somehow, despite already lounging in the backseat, Peggy managed to flop back further. Shook her head in reproach. “What do they do to you at the academy?” she asked.

Never had John actually talked to someone he arrested before. Usually when he was on the job, it was a silent affair. Even when he was with his partner, the two of them stay quiet, lost in their own worlds. And yet, he felt an urge to reply to the woman in his backseat.

“I’m not a robot,” he answered gruffly. Peggy’s eyes lit up. Shit.

“I have feelings too, just like everyone else.” John, why are you still _talking_?

“Would you like to talk about it?” Peggy cooed and he blanched. Took the next left a little too hard.

“I’m not talking to you,” he said incredulously.

She blew a raspberry. “Take me to your leader.” Robot voice.

“Stop it,” he snapped. He felt dangerously unprofessional. Peggy shook her head at him. No, he felt like he was twelve.

“Let me tell you something,” she whispered conspiratorially. Shuffled forward in her seat so she could lean her head on the shoulder of the passenger seat. “You struck gold picking me up tonight. People usually pay me hundreds of dollars to listen to their problems for an hour. Today? You get me for free. For as long as you like.” She leaned back again. Like she won an unspecified competition.

She kind of did. John’s interest was piqued. “You’re a psychiatrist?” he asked. He went to a psychiatrist once. It was a waste of his money and both their times. He had gone and then couldn’t get over the fact he actually had to talk. When she had shaken his hand at the end of the session, and asked him to arrange for a second one with the receptionist, he had smiled and left without even a backwards glance.

Peggy wiggled her head in a way that could be interpreted both negatively and positively. John was instantly suspicious. Shifted in his seat so he could focus on the road and only the road again.

“Do you think you’re in touch with your feelings?” Peggy asked. His eyes were drawn back to her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She looked entirely too smug. Like the cat who got the cream.

“Yes,” he spat.

Peggy hummed. “All of them?” She wiggled her eyebrows in a way that was overly suggestive and John felt a blush climbing up his neck.

 “Yes.” Too slow.

Peggy clucked her tongue. The feeling of being twelve and being way out of his depth was back again.

“Why are you working on Christmas?” she asked. “Got anybody at home waiting for you?”

The smirk on her face said she already knew the answer so John looked back at the road again. The police station was coming up on the next street, he knew. He just needed to pass the one traffic light and he could be free of the nosy woman in his backseat. He just needed to drive straight.

He took a right. Pulled over to the side of the road. The hobo collapsed on the steps of one of the building hurriedly scrambled.

John ignored him. Peggy beamed.

“How are you in relationships?” she questioned. John drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and kept staring forward.

“Apparently,” he began slowly, “I have trouble expressing myself.”

Peggy coughed in a way that suggests she was hiding a laugh. “And how’s your sex life?” she asked bluntly.

The blush climbed higher.

“I have sex with people,” he spat. Peggy wriggled her head in that way again.

“Do you connect with them emotionally?” she questioned and John drums his fingers against the steering wheel as an answer. She tried again. “What do you fear the most?”

Spiders, John wanted to say. Clowns. The dark. Literally anything but the actual answer. “Of ending up alone.”

“Are you gay?”

He whirled around so fast he cracked his neck. “ _What?_ ”

Peggy looked nonplussed. Not a trace of shock in her face. “No one waiting at home for you? You have sex with ‘people’? The non-gendered term really gave it away, just saying. Are you gay?”

John wanted to drive away. No, better yet, he wanted to dive out of this car and run the short distance back to the station and forget all of this ever happened. He should have just let her steal the damn brooch.

“Hey,” Peggy coaxed. She looked almost sympathetic. “Nothing wrong with being gay. I’m gay.”

His heart almost stopped. A life buoy thrown to him just as he was beginning to drown. “Really?” He sounded like a child. Innocent, unsure. As if he needed a helping hand through life.

She nodded. Wrestled her phone out of her pocket so she could show him the lock screen. Swiped away a message notification before she did though.

And there, on her lock screen, was her and another woman. Laughing. Happy. They look similar but not quite. While the woman in his backseat looked almost innocent, with a youthful face and doe eyes, the other woman was seductive, full red lips and short tousled curls. The two of them stared at each other, frozen in this one moment for the rest of time. Peggy was kissing the other woman on the cheek. He was almost tearing up at the amount of love pouring out of their every pore. He reached out for the phone, stopped himself before he could actually touch it.

“Is that-” He could’t even find the words for it. Peggy nodded gently. “My girlfriend,” she confirmed and John foung himself mouthing the word. Sat in silence for a moment and allowed himself to think of himself as gay. Thought of a future where he got to be with a man, as openly as Peggy could.

His stomach clenched. He slumped back in his seat. Peggy watched him with compassionate eyes.

*

“So,” Lafayette asked as they sat on the armrest of the travellator. People kept walking between them, eying their positions suspiciously. “What do you do?”

Hercules kissed his teeth. Drummed his hands on his knees. Finally shrugged. “Office worker,” he explained finally.

The other man nodded. “Ahh, office worker. Interesting.” They reached the end of the travellator. Walked to the one directly by its side and rode their way back, perched on the armrest of the travellator. A passing security guard ignored them.

Hercules shrugged again. “Family business,” he explained finally. “Father needs someone to take over the company. I’m the eldest son. Seemed like the obvious solution.”

“You don’t seem very happy in your current job,” Lafayette observed. “What would you do if you weren’t taking over the family business?”

He blushed, curled up into himself. “Fashion,” he murmured. Gestured at the number of people around them, lingering on those with nicer looking coats. “I used to design clothes in my spare time. Sold them as a side business during my college years.” Lafayette looked genuinely interested this time.

“Why you stop?”

Hercules shrugged. “Family business,” and Lafayette booed loudly. People look over but he didn’t really care when he nearly just fell off the travellator from laughing too hard at the other man’s enthusiasm. They went a couple more rounds on the travellators, until Lafayette hopped off the armrest. He tilted his head to the side, indicated for Hercules to follow. He did.

They ended up in a tiny bookstore and spent a glorious hour there. Lafayette laughed whenever he saw Hercules pull a face at the number of books that had Drumpf’s face on them. Nearly caused the shop assistant to come over and check up on them when he couldn’t control the volume of his laughter as Hercules painstakingly flipped every single one of those books coverside down.

In turn, he dramatically read out a passage from any book that Hercules handed him. This ranged from biographies to the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy to Sophie Kinsella chicklit. Hercules couldn’t stop smiling as the other man gave every single character their own unique voice.

Finally, the shop assistant came over and they rushed out the shop before she realised what they had done to all the Drumpf books. They ended up having a race back to the bar and they almost scared Raf into dropping a tray full of glasses with the speed at which they returned to their original seats. The bartender glared at them until they sheepishly apologise, to which he turned up his nose and whisked the glasses away through a swinging door so he could wash them.

Neither of them could stop laughing, and Hercules found himself folded over the counter, wheezing with the force of his laughter. Finally, they trailed off into comfortable silence, and he watched as Lafayette checked his phone.

The other man’s laughter froze and Hercules sat up. “Laf?” he asked in concern, leaning forward. “You okay?”

In response, Lafayette shoved his phone over to Hercules. A group chat was open on his phone. There was one unread message.

**Peggy:** Got arrested

Hercules kissed his teeth again. Huffed. “I am so sorry,” he said and Lafayette took his phone back. Stashed it in his pocket before he buried his head in his hands. The joyful mood from before had vanished entirely.

“Sorry,” Lafayette said shakily. He tapped his pocket where his phone was. “It just hit me what my family is like. What I’m going home to. What I’m going home without.”

For a moment, Hercules stupidly thought Lafayette meant he had forgotten to buy Christmas presents. But then he realised. How Lafayette had come to the bar at 10 in the morning with the full intention of buying a drink. How he was completely alone in the airport. How he barely checked his phone whole time they were together, like he knew no one would be texting him. The way he had looked when Hercules had accidentally propositioned him.

“Girlfriend trouble?” he asked and Lafayette groaned.

“If you can call it that.”

Hercules didn’t get it. “Commitment issues?”

A dry laugh. “You could say that.” The other man spied the look of confusion on his face. “She has a husband,” Lafayette explained.

“Oh!” Hercules exclaimed. Thought over the whole situation in his head. Exclaimed again, quieter this time. Lafayette shook his head. Tapped his pocket again but harder, like he was trying to break his phone through the cloth.

“Just-” he said desperately- “I’m going to go home to this wonderful, loving couple, you know? They’ve been married for almost two decades. Met in high school, married by university. And I’m going to go home, alone, and when they ask if I’m seeing anyone, I’d have to tell them I’m seeing a married woman.”

It was Hercules’ turn to shake his head.

“Why are you even seeing her?” he asked lowly. “Do you think she is going to leave her husband for you?”

“No,” Lafayette laughed. His mouth tugged down in the corners. “No. That was never in question.”

“Then why are you breaking up a marriage?” Hercules continued, in the same low tone. “They could have had a happy marriage and you’re just breaking them up. What are you doing?”

The other man whipped around to look at him. No, not look. Glare.

“Look,” he snarled. “Whatever you want to say to me, I’ve already said it to myself, alright? Said that and said shit ten times worse. I don’t need a guy who lets his dad walk all over him, who gives up his dreams so easily, to tell me shit, alright? See you around.”

The bar stool clattered to the ground as Lafayette stood up. Without even looking back, the taller man grabbed his bag and stalked out. Hercules stared after him, chest heaving with anger.

He turned back to the bar. Raf stood behind the counter, whistled lowly after Lafayette’s departing figure. Noted Hercules’ glare.

“I didn’t say shit,” he defended himself and disappeared behind the swinging door again.

*

Theodosia had put on Christmas carols. Silent Night filled the house as Thomas and James work in silence to fix the rest of Christmas dinner. Evening crept closer as they worked.

“Allllll is caaallmm, allllll is briiight,” Thomas sang quietly. “Brownnnn yooooung viiiirgin, motherrr and child-”

“Wait, what?” James interrupted. Leaned against the kitchen counter. “Repeat that for me?”

Thomas obliged.

“You think the lyric is ‘brown young virgin’?” James scoffed and Thomas gritted his teeth.

“What’s the lyric then?”

“Round! Round yon virgin!” Thomas shrugged as a response.

“Okay then,” he said and James sighed gustily. Retrieved the gingerbread and cookies from the oven and banged them down on the counter loudly. Thomas flinched.

“Can you not?” he snapped. The other man whirled around.

“Excuse me?” James hissed. Thomas jabbed a finger at the countertops.

“Can you not take out your frustrations on the countertop?” he gritted. “Those things are expensive and we are selling the damn house and we can’t do that if we have cracked countertops.”

James rolled his eyes but obliged. He plattered the gingerbread, scooped out the Christmas cookies and placed them on a cooling rack.

Outside the kitchen, Theodosia watched the street through the window. The tv was on but muted. The only sounds were the Christmas carols she had playing through the speakers. Thomas stood at the kitchen entrance, watched the muted tv. An advertisement played. A holiday travel ad. Paris. France. Round flights and 5 star hotels. His heart softened.

When they were back in college, he mused, they wanted to see the world.

Of course, he and James were broke then. They couldn’t have afforded it even if they wanted to. They then narrowed it down to a gap year abroad. Thomas wanted to live in France for a year, James had no preference but was willing to go wherever Thomas wanted. When they got married, the plan got even smaller. A honeymoon in Paris. But then their final years were suddenly upon them and they didn’t even have time for the honeymoon. They thought about doing it once they graduated, but once they did, student loans loomed over their heads and they couldn’t even afford that.

And now it was almost twenty years on and they still haven’t even been on their honeymoon.

The hope rushed back. The lingering want to fix them, to fix everything, to get everything back to normal. To reclaim that head-over-heels feeling they had when they first got together. He wanted James back. He wanted their life back.

“James,” he murmured and he shut the kitchen door. James looked up at the thud.

“Thomas?” he asked and he was hit with the memory of when James would come home from work and call out his name because he missed his husband in the hours they were apart.

“James,” Thomas tried again. “Let’s go to France.”

His partner jerked back. “What?”

“We always wanted to travel the world, remember?” he murmured. “We wanted to travel the world when we were younger, but then we couldn’t afford it so we wanted to take a gap year in France instead.”

James’ eyes were wide with disbelief. Or maybe it was pity. Thomas couldn’t tell.

“We never even went on our honeymoon,” Thomas points out. “We didn’t have time and we couldn’t afford it back then. But we have time now. We have money now. This house is too big anyway. We could sell the house and take a gap year to Paris, like we always wanted.”

“Thomas,” James breathed softly. “What are you talking about?”

He takes a step forward. “I want to fix us,” he says quietly. “I want us back, before we started fighting nonstop.” He watched as James’ eyes fluttered shut.

“Thomas,” he said, voice sharp. “That was twenty years ago. We’ve grown up since then.”

“We can still go,” Thomas pleaded. “Give us a chance. Tell me you don’t want to fix us and I’ll stop. But give us a chance, James. “

“We used to slow dance in the living room,” James snapped.

A glimmer of hope. He surged forward. “Exactly!” But James cuts him off.

“Used to! The key phrase there was ‘used to’! Thomas, we got married twenty years ago. We were barely adults back then. We married too young. And now we’re getting divorced. You need to understand that we don’t work.”

“We worked for most of those twenty years!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice. He was being too loud. Theodosia was in the other room.

James shook his head. “It’s an old dream,” he murmured. “It means nothing to me now.”

Thomas could feel his heart breaking. He couldn’t tell if James was talking about France or their marriage. Maybe it was both. God, when did he fall so out of sync with his husband?

“I’m going anyway,” he said under his breath. James sighed tiredly.

“Do what you want,” he said. “You’re no longer my problem once we get divorced.”

*

He worked in silence for the rest of his shift. Said no more than “good day” and “goodbye” and the occasional rereading of the order to the customers. If anyone thought him unwelcoming, they said nothing. He didn’t care anyway, it’s his last day.

George had stormed out right after their argument. Alex wasn’t there to see him leave. Was instead hiding out in the alleyway behind the diner. Shivering in the cold as he grinded the heels of his hands into his eyes and forced the tears back. He refused to cry. He refused to think about George.

When he had returned, George’s booth had been cleared and another couple seated there. Javier had drifted up to him, patted him on the shoulder consolingly. Alex leaned into the touch for a moment before he moved on.

He wiped up tables. Served greasy food on chipped plates to customers. Smiled when he received them. Pocketed any tips he got. Worked like he normally would.

When his shift ended, as the day wound down, his coworkers surprised him. They had all chipped in to buy a cake from the bakery opposite. _Congratulations, Alex!_ written in green frosting. He continued to not cry. Accepted hugs and handshakes from everyone. Javier had brought him a card and a small potted plant that he had grown himself. Alex hugged him the tightest.

The cake was demolished, his last paycheck sat in his pocket. He had been hugged and patted more times he can count. They closed up shop early, waved away his efforts to help. Outside, in the cold, they hugged him again, waved him goodbye. Promises to keep in touch, well wishes. He was genuinely touched. Allowed himself to shed the one tear.

He turned, ready to head over to his friends’ house. And lo and behold, George was there. Gloved hands shoved in his coat pockets. Scarf wrapped around his neck. Alex continued to walk. Was fully prepared to walk past him and put him out of mind forever. One foot in front of the other.

“Alex.” Soft. Quiet.

He kept walking.

George reached out to grab his arm. He ripped his arm back, whirled around. His coworkers were walking the other way. They were too far away to notice anything.

“What,” he snapped. Took another step away from George. “What do you want? You’ve thought of something else to throw in my face?” The older man looked stricken.

“I came to apologise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said any of those things.”

Alex scoffed.

George forged forward. “You are a wonderful young man. I shouldn’t have accused you of running away. You have your own, entirely valid reasons for leaving, and I should have been supportive of that. I shouldn’t have thrown your father in your face. You are nothing like him, you’re better than that.”

He folded his arms. Looked away. Stared at everyone else who has to walk around their awkward conversation in the middle of the street. “You said some pretty shitty things,” he observed. “Do you expect me to forgive you just like that?”

George fumbled. From his pocket, he retrieved a slip of paper. A check. “I wanted to support you,” he said. Offered it to him. “Something to fall back on so you don’t end up starving to death in New York.”

Alex blanched. Didn’t take the check. “That’s a bit vulgar,” he spat. He still hadn’t actually looked back at George. “I don’t want your money.”

The other man looked sheepish. Withdrew the check and slipped it back in his pocket. The two of them stood in the middle of the road in silence. Quiet. Contemplative.

“The food in the diner sucks,” George offered finally.

“That’s not where I thought this apology was going.”

“It sucks,” the older man persisted. “I’m pretty sure everything in there is a health violation. But I came anyway. I came everyday. This might come off a little strange, but I came every day to see you.”

Alex blinked. Glanced at George.

“When I was younger,” he began on a shuddery breath. “I ran away to New York too. Came back within a month because I couldn’t make it there and all the problems I thought I had left behind followed me anyway.”

“I was a lot like you when I was younger. I had a lot of ideas too, about life and where I fitted in. But the difference is, Alex, you’re a better person than me. I have no doubt that no matter what you do in the future, you’re going to succeed. You’re going to make something out of your life. If anyone is going to go New York, and actually figure life out, it would be you.”

Alexander took a moment. Breathed in cold air. Scrubbed away a tear. “You sure know how to ham up an apology,” he said finally and George made a sound that was almost but not quite relief.

He’s still hurt but he didn’t know how to express it.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how,” he murmured. “Didn’t want to say goodbye. This town drives me insane. I can’t breathe here. I need to leave.” He taps his temple. “My brain feels like it’s filled with static. I can’t be here, just doing the same thing for the rest of my life over and over again. My brain will go to mush. I’ll stop thinking. I’m already doing that. I can’t keep living here.”

The other man screwed up his face, digested the words. Nodded when he got it.

Alex licked his lips. Swallowed. Thought over George’s words. “What did you want to do?” he asked quietly. “When you went to New York.”

George blushed. Bowed his head and scuffed his shoe against the snow covered pavement. “I wanted to write plays,” he confessed. Alex thought about Lafayette and his script again. About Lafayette bemoaning how his play closed in a day. About him languishing in his copywriting job. Looked at George, who came back licking his wounds, and never left the town again. Who came back and languished in his life here. Thought about his hurt again.

“I’m still hurt,” he said. George’s eyes flicked up to look at him before he looked back down again. Nodded in understanding.

“But-” Alex made a split second decision- “You can make it up to me.” He gestured down the street. “Come with me to Christmas dinner,” he invited. “James and Thomas always make too much food anyway. You won’t be a bother.”

George frowned, but his feet stuttered forward. “You sure?”

Alex grabbed his arm as an answer. Tugged him forward and down the street. He doesn’t need to answer.

“I’ve got someone you need to meet anyway.”

*

Aaron stepped into a house that felt frigid with ice. The kitchen door was closed and the tv on mute. Theodosia didn’t jump up to greet him when he stepped in through the door. He had spied her looking out of the window when he had pulled up in his car. Now she was folded away from him, knees up to her chest. No eye contact.

“Theo,” he greeted, brushed her hair out of the way so he could kiss her on the forehead. She smelled like the coconut shampoo she used. He forced down a spike of anxiety at the thought of bills and daily necessities. At least Theodosia leaned into his touch.

He gestured at the door. “Everything okay in there?” he asked his daughter. She shrugs.

“Uncle Thomas closed the door about 10 minutes ago. I can hear them talking. They get a bit loud sometimes.” Theodosia bit her lip, pulled Aaron down so he was sitting on the sofa next to her. She nestled up to him, buried her head in his neck. “I think they are fighting.” It came out muffled.

Thomas? James? Fighting? Aaron shook his head. “Couples fight, honey,” he explains. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“They’ve been acting weird since I got here,” she mumbled stubbornly.  Aaron looked back the closed door. Hissed noises escape from under the door. “There was a loud crash too.”

“Okay,” he said. “I believe you.” Theodosia bit her lip again. Aaron kept his arm around her as she melted into the chair.

Despite him trying to keep calm, Aaron could feel his heartbeat picking up as he thought about his situation. He could just about pay off his bills for the next two months, but other than that, he was in trouble. He had to find a job and soon. And this time, he had to keep it together or he was going to get fired again.

But Theodosia. Her school results. He couldn’t afford to get her a tutor. How bad were her results?

“Theodosia?” he called. Scratched her head soothingly. “How bad are your results exactly?”

She stiffened. Tension beneath his hands. “I’m sorry, dad,” she apologised. Aaron shook his head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Theodosia pushed away from him. Moved to the far end of the sofa. Picked at her nails. “My 4.0 dropped to 3.5,” she said quietly.

Aaron calculated how bad her results would have to be to drop that far. Winced at the number. Guilt in his chest. How did he not know?

“Okay,” he says, finally. “Do you have anything you want to talk to me about?” It’s Theodosia’s turn to wince. She keeps her gaze fixed downwards. Her mouth opens and closes as if she has to find the right word before she would be able to speak.

“No,” she said and Aaron nodded. Didn’t push. She will come to him when she wanted to.

He moved down the sofa, gathered her in her arms. She nestled closer. The two of them breathed in tandem.

A loud creak from the front door. He looked up.

Angelica stood at the front door. Bright smile. Perfectly white teeth and hands akimbo. Eliza behind her. Weary face. Smaller smile.

“Well,” Angelica announced. “Isn’t this touching?”

*

When he next saw Hercules Mulligan, it was after he had landed back home. He spied the bulky figure sitting in a chair right outside the departure hall, had to do a double take to make sure, and his chest lurched.

He had spent the whole flight home thinking about Hercules. Regretting every word he said. The guilt in his chest tugged him forward. He needed to apologise. He couldn’t leave their last conversation as it was.

He fought his way through a sea of people, chanting apologies as he bumped into unmoving limbs. He was causing an unnecessary ruckus. Hercules had his earphones in, showed no sign that he noticed Lafayette making his way over.

That was until Lafayette sat down next to him, and Hercules wrestled his own bag up to his shoulder and started to walk away.

“Wait!” he cried, grabbing Hercules’ sleeve. “I want to apologise.”

Hercules looked down at him. Ripped out an earbud and tilted his head sarcastically. “Oh, are you talking to me? You know, a guy who lets his dad walk all over him and gives up his dreams easily? You talking to me?”

Lafayette flinched back. Let go of his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you, it wasn’t fair. I very clearly crossed a line and I’m just- Sorry.”

As quickly as it came, the look of anger on Hercules’ face faded. He plopped back down to the seat next to Lafayette. “I’m sorry too,” he admitted. “You were clearly upset already and I made it worse by judging you too harshly. I put all the blame on you, you don’t need that.”

“We’re both sorry,” Lafayette determined. Relaxed back against the airport seat. Sighed loudly to the annoyance of the woman next to him. He looked over at Hercules as the man removed both his earbuds.

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked and Hercules laughed drily.

“Waiting on Uber actually,” the other man explained and showed Lafayette the app on his phone. The surge pricing was insane and Hercules chuckled at the look on his face.

“I’ve got time to wait,” he explained as he pocketd his phone. “No one is actually at home, they all left to go overseas for the holidays. I just didn’t really want to go.”

“Christmas: a time for family and joy!” Lafayette mocked in a singsong tone and his companion shook his head. Pouted as if to say “eh”.

Lafayette’s own phone buzzed in his pocket. Thomas, asking if he has landed. He texted back an affirmative, switched apps to book a cab. The cab was barely 5 minutes away.

The two of them sat in silence, Lafayette fidgeting in his seat. He didn’t know why, just felt an urge to keep moving. There was a strange tug in his stomach at the thought of having to say goodbye to Hercules.

_You could ask for his number_ , his brain reminded him. He turned to do just that and another idea struck him. This one was ten times crazier and he dropped to his knees in front of Hercules, who nearly kicked him in shock.

“Wha-” he began but Lafayette didn’t let him get another word out.

“Come home with me,” he breathed and Hercules’ eyes were nearly bulging out of his skull but Lafayette pressed on.

“Cmon,” he coaxed. “You could come back with me. You will get a nice dinner, human company, general merriment. It’s better than going home alone. Besides, you could save me from an evening of having to tell people I’m sleeping with a married woman.”

A passerby looked alarmed at their conversation. He ignored them. Hercules’ eyes were still wide open.

“You can’t be serious,” he said and Lafayette nodded.

“Cmon,” he tried again. “You deserve a nice dinner, take it as my apology for just now. All we would have to figure out is how we met and how we got together. What do you say?”

Hesitation was written all over Hercules. His eyes kept flicking from Lafayette to people walking by.

His hands. Passerby. His shoulders. Passerby. His chest. Passerby. His lips. Passerby.

“Alright,” the other man breathed and Lafayette punched the air in victory.

“Yes!” he cheered and pulled Hercules to his feet. The other man looked a little dazed at the turn of events. “Let’s go,” Lafayette instructed. “The cab is waiting.”

*

“How’s your family life?” Peggy asked.

They were still sitting in John’s running car. It couldn’t be good for the engine, considering how long they had been there.

Well, she mused. At least it wasn’t his car.

John grunted in response.

“Wow, that can’t be great,” Peggy said. Left room for him to fill. John slumped forward to rest his head on the steering wheel.

“My dad’s a dick,” he spat. She hummed in sympathy. “When I was growing up,” he snarled, “I was never good enough. Wait, no, let me rephrase that. I am almost 30 years old and nothing I do is good enough.”

“You’re a police officer though,” Peggy questioned and John scoffed.

“That means nothing to him,” he explained. “He wanted me to be a lawyer. I went to law school. Had to drop out because I broke down in the second year. So I tried to do the next best thing to make up for it.”

“Join the police academy,” Peggy filled in and John nodded. His curls were escaping from under his cap.

“S’not good enough,” he drawled. He sat back, tilted his head against the headrest. “I didn’t even want to be a lawyer,” he explained. “I only went to law school to make him happy.”

“That’s a lot to do to make someone else happy,” Peggy observed. John nodded. His eyes were scrunched up.

“What did you want to do?” she questioned.

John shrugged. “I wanted to become a doctor. I don’t know why that wasn’t good enough for him.”

“It’s a worthwhile profession,” Peggy said. “Your dad sounds like an asshole.”

“Thanks.” He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “What about you?”

Peggy froze. “Me?”

John nodded. “Bitch sister?” he asked. “That doesn’t sound great either.”

It was Peggy’s turn to sigh. “It isn’t.”

She didn’t want to go into it. She shouldn’t go into it. No one wanted to listen to her complain again.

Her mouth ran away from her. “My sister does this thing every Christmas where she buys you the most expensive gift she can find. And not only will it be expensive, it will be completely useless. So all it does is take up space in your damn house and you can’t even get rid of it or you’ll hurt her feelings. And she is super snide about everything you do. No matter what I buy, it won’t even measure up to her damn present because it will be ten times more expensive and a hundred times more useless!”

John looked almost taken aback by the flood of words. “Is this why you stole the brooch?”

Peggy sagged in her seat. “It was a fucking hideous brooch,” she complained bitterly. “But it was expensive and useless. And there was a slight chance it was more expensive than whatever shit she bought me this year. I was just fucking pissed and all I could think about was her damn fucking face so I took the damn thing.”

He paused. “She sounds terrible,” he said.

Peggy shrugged. “She would be fine, if not for this one thing,” she explained. “I just want to spend a pleasant Christmas with her. I don’t want to show up for some weird pissing contest. A nice dinner with old friends and some pleasant conversation. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

She saw the way John was looking at her. It was the same expression she had given him when he realised he was gay. The same empathetic look.

“What’s the address of your friend’s dinner party?” he asked finally. There was a wry look on his face.

A glimmer of hope. She tried not to put so much faith into it. Recited the address and watched as John pulled away from the curb. She leaned back. People outside the window blurred.

*

James heard a familiar voice. Heaved in a steadying breath before he opened the kitchen door.

Angelica stood on the other side. Unctuous smile. Eliza behind her. Aaron and Theodosia on the sofa. Both of them were red eyed.

“Angelica,” he greeted reservedly. The woman in question turned her bright smile onto him, bounded over to wrap him up in a hug. He struggled not to flinch, patted her on the shoulder.

“James!” she said with a perkiness that was unnatural. Behind them, Thomas emerged from the kitchen. He hoped the other man’s eyes weren’t red, or else Angelica would latch onto that like a hawk.

“Thomas,” she cried, almost directly into his ear, swooping over to the other man to wrap him up in a hug. He returned the hug easily.

“Angelica,” he greeted in return. He nodded at Eliza from over their hug. Eliza raises a hand.

“The food smells amazing,” she praised quietly and Angelica nodded enthusiastically. Inches towards the kitchen.

“Any chance that I could get a pre-dinner bite?” she teased. James slid in between her and the kitchen.

“Ha!” he smiled, gesturing at Theodosia with one hand. “You’ll just have to wait, Angel, like everyone else. Besides we’re still not done.”

Shit, he wasn’t supposed to say that. Thomas looked at him meaningfully. Angelica’s eyes glitter.

“Running late?” she asked with a patronising smile. “Need any help?”

James took another protective step. Thomas glided in, hands on Angelica’s shoulders. Guided her to the sofa.

“We couldn’t,” he cooed. “You’re a guest! Sit, relax. How’s Peggy?”

Instantly, Angelica’s lips thin. James punched the air internally. Cut in before Angelica can reply. Behind them all, Eliza and Aaron look on with an air of amusement. “Besides, Theodosia is helping us. She’s wonderful.” He directed this last sentence at Aaron, who beamed back with pride.

“So I’m not a guest then?” Theodosia joshed. She waved off her remark with an airy laugh, darted inside the kitchen as her father spluttered from his spot on the coach.

Thomas clapped his hands. “Can I get anyone a drink?” he announced and Angelica was instantly all smiles again. She asked for a glass of wine, Eliza and Aaron both settle for water. James took the opportunity to return to the kitchen, where Theodosia was icing the now-cooled cookies. She looked slightly less uneasy than she did before.

“You alright?” he asked and she startled. Nodded her head before bending back down to ice the cookies. “I’m fine,” she answered muffled. “Just slightly stressed.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Theodosia shrugged.

He sensed she was not in a talking mood, and simply iced the rest of the cookies in silence. Thomas came in after a moment, and fixed everyone up a drink. He swanned back out, but not before, James noticed, taking a fortifying breath. He did not look at James the whole time he ws in the kitchen.

“Are you and Uncle Thomas alright?” came Theodosia’s voice. She was not even looking at him, her eyes fixed on the cookies.

No, he wanted to say. Not really. He was stressed and worried and slightly lonely. He would rather Christmas be over. He would rather his house be empty. He would rather he and his husband not fight constantly. He wished they were okay.

“I’m fine,” he replied instead. Understood that Theodosia’s “I’m fine” was about as truthful as his.

She looked up at him. They understood each other perfectly.

They went back to icing the cookies.

*

“So,” Lafayette cleared his throat. “How did we meet?”

“Airport bar?” Hercules suggested and the other man made a buzzer noise, like he got a question wrong on a game show. He held up his hands. Surrender.

“Too close to the truth,” Lafayette said and he sprawled over. Head on his shoulder, legs tossed into his lap.

Hercules stared. He couldn’t get his mouth to work. “What are you doing?” he tried. It came out strangled.

Lafayette sighed, nuzzled closer. “We need to be comfortable with each other,” he explained. “Physical affection. I’m just trying to get you familiarised with it.”

“Couldn’t you have said something first?” he said and Lafayette sat back. Worried frown.

“Sorry,” he apologised and Hercules shook his head. Indicated that Lafayette should continue. The lankier man beamed, resumed his position.

“Shoulders,” Lafayette said and Hercules blinked. “When I first met him, I was enraptured by his shoulders. Thought that I could have swooned right there and then, and I wouldn’t have minded as long as it was him who rescued me.”

Oh. Their cover story. He cleared his throat. Hummed in thought.

“He towered over me,” he tried. “Skyscraper of a man. I couldn’t look away from him. He had a presence; I just had to be near him. The first time he laughed, I was floored. Thought I could listen to just him laughing for the rest of my life and I would have been content.”

Lafayette grinned. “Proving yourself to be quite the writer, Hercules,” he teased. Nuzzled even closer so that his hair tickled the line of his jaw.

“I fell in love with the way he thought,” Lafayette continued. “His mind spun in a way so different from mine, I wanted to see what it was like 24/7.”

“He blew me away with his words. He let me read one of his works and I fell in love right there and then.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him,” Lafayette murmured. Eyes lingering on his mouth.

“Really?” he breathed. His heart rate just picked up, embarrassingly enough.

“No,” the man laughed. “But I am going to tell that to everyone and they are going to die.”

Not to be thwarted, Hercules pressed on. “Before I met him, I didn’t believe in love at first sight. Thought it was bullshit. But then, this beautiful man walked into my life, smart and ambitious, and he had so much grace and these poetic words. And I thought- If I could wake up every day and look at that face, I would be the luckiest man alive.”

Lafayette was enraptured, looking up at him as he talked. Hercules smiled gently at him.

“And,” he continued. “Lafayette was standing right next to him.”

The harsh smack he received on his thigh was entirely worth it.

*

He dropped her off at the house. She had been wary the whole drive, stole glances at him, especially when they had to round the block and she thought they were going to the police station anyway.

But when he dropped her off at her family’s house and freed her from her cuffs, she couldn’t stop gaping.

“Is this legal?” she asked and John, stone-faced, shrugged.

“It’s Christmas,” he said and Peggy kept gaping at him like he hung the moon. “Hey, I have compassion,” he deadpanned and Peggy jumped into his arms to hug him.

He hugged her back, relished the human contact. Breathed in and out and relaxed. Peggy leaeds back. Gestured at the house. “Do you want to come in?” And he shook his head no. Jabbed a thumb at the police car in the driveway.

“Still on duty, Peggy,” he answered and Peggy hugged him again. He patted her on the shoulder, pulled back to look her in the eye.

“About your sister,” he began and Peggy pulled a face. “You have two options here. You can buy her the most expensive gift you can afford without stealing-” Peggy winced- “or you can donate money to a charity of her choice. Moral high road, you know?”

Peggy winced again. “Before I saw the brooch, I was actually going to do that,” she confessed in a small voice and John shook his head.

“So go with that plan,” he instructed. Spun her around and pushed her forward to the door. “Go spend time with your family.”

She took two steps forward. Turned back around. “John,” she said desperately. “I lied, I’m not a psychiatrist.”

John had to laugh at that. “I know,” he stated. “You’re a shit liar.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Look,” he pointed out. “Even if you weren’t a real psychiatrist, you helped me more than my actual one ever did. Although that one is kind of on me, as well, but the point is: you helped. I managed to open up to you, that is a Christmas miracle in itself. So, I’m returning the favour. I listened to you, gave you advice, and dropped you off for Christmas dinner. Don’t make me regret it.”

Peggy’s eyes were shining with tears as he returned back to his car. He was just about to get it when she called out to him again.

“John!” she shouted. “You deserve happiness. In all forms.”

He smiled. Got back in his car. Drove away. Allowed the message to sink it until he believed it himself.

*

“Hi,” she said simply when she got into the house.

Instantly, there was a loud screech as Angelica spotted her presence. She flew around to her sister, grabbed Peggy in a hug. Pulled back to shake her. “What the hell did you do?”

Eliza dived in to hold Angelica back, whisked Peggy away by a few steps. “Sis, you okay?” she muttered. Peggy couldn’t really stop smiling, nodded.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened,” she breathed and Angelica screeched again. Peggy spies the empty wine glass on the table.

“What the fuck, Pegs!” her sister demanded. Aaron blanched. Theodosia was nonplussed. “How are you so stupid? What did you even do to get arrested?”

“It was a misunderstanding, Angel,” Peggy tried to explain. Nodded at Thomas and James who drift in and out of the kitchen as they set the table. Her sister was not so easily dissuaded.

“Honestly,” she hissed. “I am so disappointed. You, a criminal! I thought we raised you better-”

“I said it was a misunderstanding! And raising me? I didn’t come out of your vagina, what are you on about-”

“Sisters, please.” Eliza, trying to defuse the bomb. It was in vain though. All goodwill had washed out of Peggy the moment Angel kept prodding.

“What were you even thinking?” Angel hissed.

“It was a mistake, I wasn’t even booked. Can you knock it off-”

“Children!” Eliza exploded. Fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Headache. Radiating exasperation. “It. Is. Christmas. Can you behave for just one night? Please? I would expect this behaviour from Theodosia; not from two women who are in basically in their thirties!”

Theodosia looked vaguely offended at this accusation. The door opened again.

“I’m home!” chimed in another voice. Everyone turned. Lafayette. Unfamiliar guest with him. He burst in, all Christmas joy and holiday spirit. Sensed the tension and frowned.

“What did I miss?”

*

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, Hercules,” Lafayette introduced. Hercules kept his hand around his waist and he leaned into the touch. No one would tell him what was going on so he had simply decided to forge ahead with introductions.

Eliza tilted her head curiously. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” she remarked and Lafayette laughed airily. Waved the comment aside.

“We were keeping it on the down low,” he explained. Turned to Hercules and pecked his cheek. Hercules, to his eternal credit, didn’t flinch. Only smiled and waved a hand in greeting.

“Hi everyone,” he greeted and everyone returned it in kind. Thomas appeared from the kitchen, blinked at the stranger in his house.

“Hi?” he ventured uncertainly. Hercules stepped forward. Shook his hand.

“Hercules Mulligan,” he introduced smoothly. Gestured at his surroundings with his free hand. “You have a beautiful home.” Behind him, Lafayette wiggled his eyebrows at everyone. Opened his mouth in a faux playful gasp as if he was trying to say “ _can you believe what a catch he is?_ ”

“Oh,” Thomas flustered. “Lafayette, I didn’t know you were bringing a guest. We would have made arrangements.”

“It was quite a last minute decision,” Hercules agreed sheepishly and he had to cover his mouth as he turned his laugh into a cough.

The door flew open again, and Alex stepped in. An older man followed him. Thomas resumed blinking like an owl.

“Hi,” Alex coughed. He nodded at George. “This is George, a friend of mine.” George smiled weakly, raised a bulging paper sack.

“Sorry about the intrusion,” he said, offering the paper sack to Thomas. James appeared from the kitchen, turned to his husband for an explanation on the mysterious people. He received none. Thomas received the package hesitantly.

George gestured at his present. “I felt bad about coming by with no warning,” he explained. “So we stopped on the way over to pick up extra food. It’s all premade, it just requires heating up.”

Alex shook his head, hung up his coat. “I told you not to worry, George,” he teased. “I’ll help you set up,” he offered James. With Thomas, they returned to the kitchen. Beeps from the microwave soon emitted from the other room.

George looked quite alarmed to be left alone with a bunch of strangers. James took pity on him. “Maybe you can go see if they need help,” he offered and the older man disappears like a shot.

James plastered a smile on his face, turned back to the room. If he noted the newcomers, he says nothing.

“Can I refresh anyone’s drink?”

*

Eventually, they all made their way to the dinner table. It groaned under the weight of the food. Roast turkey, mash potatoes, gingerbread, apple pie, Christmas cookies, plus whatever George had brought over. Thomas heaved a sigh of relief. They have enough food after all.

He took stock of everyone’s positions. He and James were seated next to each other. They do not hold hands, only smile in the other’s direction every now and then. He pointedly did not think of France.

Next to him, on his right, sat Lafayette and Hercules. They do hold hands. Bump shoulders conspiratorially now and then. Hercules kept glancing over at Lafayette, who squeezed his hand every time he did so. Lafayette was making earnest conversation with George.

On James’ left, Alex sat with George. The newcomer was much taller than his friend, and so he hunched over. Tried to make himself as small as possible so he doesn’t accidentally bump Aaron who sat on his left. Alex looked over at him now and then, just to make sure he was okay, but for the most part, talked to James. Caught up with him.

He won’t hear the most important news until at least the new year.

Aaron was subdued as usual. His eyes were mostly fixed on Theodosia, although he laughs whenever she cracks a joke to the table at large.

Eliza sat in between her sisters. Angelica pointedly looked away from Peggy and did not talk. Peggy chatted away with Hercules, asked about his livelihood, teased him about Lafayette.

Just as James was about to invite everyone to eat, Angelica brightened up. Spreads out her hands as if she was about to start a sermon. “Wait!” she exclaimed. “Let’s go around the table and all say something we’re thankful for this year.”

Peggy groaned. Eliza stiffened. Hercules held Lafayette’s hand tighter. George seemed almost unbothered.

“Come on, Angel,” Peggy complained. “It isn’t Thanksgiving. We do this every year. And no one likes this game.”

Angelica feigned as if she just heard someone calling her from another room. “Oh?” she sing-songed. “Who’s talking? I can’t really hear it when criminals talk.”

Peggy slammed down her cutlery. “You know what, you son of a b-”

Eliza coughed warningly. The two of them fell silent. Everyone else looked ten times more uncomfortable than they did before. Eliza nodded at James, who is almost smirking.

Thomas understood the smirk was directed at him. Him for asking for one final Christmas, and having to sit there when his dream for a perfect evening fell apart. He silently seethed.

“Let’s eat,” James announced and everyone began piling food on their plate. Shoving it in their mouths with a ravenous quality. Thomas knew they just wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

Oh well, he thought sullenly to himself, I guess asking for one last Christmas was too much.

Hercules cleared his throat. Flushed when everyone turned to look at him. “I,” he stammered. “I just wanted to say that the food is amazing.” Next to him, Lafayette nodded. Squeezds their still interlinked hands.

The smirk falls away from James’ face. He blushed with pleasure and Thomas was struck with the sudden urge to kiss him on the cheek. He did it. The table erupted in coos. Everything felt a little less tense suddenly.

“So,” Peggy asked. She winked at Lafayette and Hercules. “Tell us how the two of you met.”

The couple exchanged a significant look. Laughter tugged at the corner of their mouths. Silent communication. Hercules finally rolled his eyes in defeat.

“I was overseas in France,” he explained. Theodosia looked enraptured. “I was only meant to be there for a stopover but my flight got delayed. So in search of something to do, I stumbled across his play and decided to watch it. I managed to meet him after the show.”

“Oh, you speak French?” George asked. To Lafayette, he said, “Alex showed me your play. He was kind enough to translate the whole thing for me; I thought it was very good.”

Hercules chuckled. “I couldn’t understand it,” he said and Lafayette choked. “I don’t actually speak French, so I was completely confused the whole time.”

“But after the play, just when I was about to leave, I saw this one guy standing next to the stage, talking to the actors. I recognised him from when they had taken final bows. He was just so tall, so charismatic. I looked at him and I thought, if I could wake up every day and look at that face, I would be the luckiest man on earth.”

Lafayette had buried his head in his hands, Thomas could see him blushing. But then, as the resulting silence dragged on for a beat too long, Lafayette pried his head out his hands. He looked at Hercules like the man had just discovered the meaning of life.

Hercules grinned back at him. His boyfriend surged forward to kiss him on the lips.

Across the table, Alex pressed his hand over his heart. Nudged George as if to bring him in on a secret. He looked almost close to tears. “That was the most beautiful thing I ever heard,” he sighed. “Lafayette, your boyfriend might give you a run for your money as a writer.”

The two of them broke apart. Hercules’ eyes widened in shock. Lafayette smiled, pressed a kiss to their linked hands.

“Aren’t I lucky?” he said.

Thomas could almost feel his own heart swelling with joy. Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be that terrible after all. He could feel his own smirk growing on his face.

“I’m so excited to pass all of your gifts later on,” Angelica announced to the table.

Eliza looked about ready to palm herself in the face right there and then. Peggy’s face grew pinched. The only person who looked even more uncomfortable was Aaron. “You did remember that I asked you not to buy me anything, right?” he laughed. It is not a genuine sound. Theodosia looks worried as well.

“Come on, Aaron!” Angelica laughed. It sounded less like she was making a funny joke and more like she was lording something over a person’s head. “We weren’t really serious about that. Besides, it’s Christmas. I had to get you something.”

“Well, I was being serious when we talked about it last month,” Aaron argued stiffly. There’s a set to his jaw that suggested there was something more to that conversation then he was letting on. “And I didn’t get you anything.”

Peggy scoffed. Eliza simply got up and left. George looked like he was in extreme distress. Alex leaned over. “You okay?” he murmured.

“Good job, Angelica,” Peggy laughed. She leaned into the space Eliza just vacated. Angelica ate her dinner primly. “You just did it again. You managed to shove your wealth in someone’s else face and imply that they are somehow less of a person for not managing to spend as much money as you and made everyone else highly uncomfortable in just under 5 minutes. That must be a new record for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Angelica smiled. “Is a criminal really lecturing me right now?”

Peggy slammed her cutlery down on the table again. Thomas prayed for the state of their cutlery. He also prayed for death to come and swallow him up at this exact moment.

“I swear to God, Angelica,” she spat. “Let it go.”

“Why should I?” the older sister snarled back. “Forgive me, I’m trying to get into your little criminal mindset, figure out exactly what is it that made you commit a crime and get arrested. What, were they nice enough to let you go for Christmas dinner?” Peggy let out a hysterical bark of laughter.

“You know what?” she retorted. “You know what? Fine! I stole a brooch. It was a hideous fucking brooch that cost five thousand dollars, and I stole it with you in mind because I knew that you are going to give me some overly expensive and utterly useless present for Christmas. And you are going to act all snide when I give you some less expensive gift and act like I’m so cute for even trying to match up to you-”

“I have never done that-”

“Bull fucking _shit_ you’ve never done that, it’s what you do every year. And now you’ve gone and made Aaron uncomfortable when he clearly asked you to not spend money on him. Good fucking job, Angelica, and where are you even getting the money from, considering you were fired from your last job-”

“SHUT UP!”

Everyone at the table flinched as Theodosia slammed her hands on the table. Anger lends an angry flush of colour to her face as she stared down the Schuyler Sisters.

“It is Christmas,” the girl begged. “We are supposed to be here to celebrate a joyful occasion and all of you have shown up together and dragged your baggage along so you can use it to one-up each other in your weird sick competition. Why won’t you just stop fucking fighting?!”

The lights went out.

“George!”

*

“We’re sending him in for a CAT scan immediately. I can imagine how shaken up all of you must be. I hope it doesn’t ruin your Christmas.”

Alex had nearly laughed in the doctor’s face. George collapsing in the middle of Christmas dinner was barely the cherry atop a shitty Christmas sundae.

Alex had turned to him right before the lights had gone out, seen the surprised look on his dinner right before he had collapsed into his plate. Eliza had been the real saviour, managing to get the lights back on while she dialled for an ambulance. And now he sat in George’s hospital room, his friends scattered around the hospital. He hoped some of them were at least separated from each other.

He had asked to be alone while they waited. Told them all they could go back and finish Christmas dinner if they wanted but the look on their faces when he had suggested it told him exactly what they had told thought of his idea.

In front of him, George continued to sleep. The doctors couldn’t actually tell him anything seeing as he wasn’t family. So instead, he sat next to George’s hospital bed and waited.

*

When George woke up, the first person he saw was Alex, slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chair across from his bed.

Alex looked up at him from his phone. “You know when I asked you to make it up to me, collapsing on me wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

He laughed even though it kind of hurt to, reached out to Alex, who grabbed his hand. Alex laughed, shook his head at him. But all of a sudden, the rest of him started shaking and the younger man was crying next to his hospital bed like he just watched a friend die.

He tried to sit up but Alex jumped up, pushed him down with tear stained hands while tears continued to stream down his face.

“Please don’t,” Alex said. “You scared me half to death today, I would really rather you didn’t finish the job.” His mouth is downturned. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you died on me today and I still hadn’t told you I have forgiven you.”

George shrugged. He’s more concerned about Alex crying. “I would have assumed you had forgiven me by then.”

“It’s about the lingering lifelong sorrow,” Alex corrected. He was still slightly choked with tears but he squeezed George’s hand and settled back in the chair next to him. “Sorry about Christmas dinner by the way.”

George shook his head. “I just wanted to spend time with you. It was as good as anything else.”

Alex was crying again. “Merry Christmas, George.”

“Merry Christmas, Alex.”

*

“I told you not to buy me anything.”

Angelica glared at the floor harder. “Fuck off,” she spat.

Aaron sat down on the chair next to her. “You know, I had to listen to my daughter say the word ‘fuck’ today, I don’t think your attempt at getting me to piss off is going to scar anyone.”

“What do you want, Aaron,” the woman demanded. Tired. Purple bags staring to bloom through her under-eye makeup. She looked much older all of a sudden. “An apology? Is that it? I’m sorry, good enough?”

He didn’t even have the energy to fight with her. Any rage he had held had dissipated at the sight of Theodosia shouting at everyone. Instead, he said, “You got fired, huh?”

Angelica flinched like she got shot. “Can you not?”

“I got fired too,” he said simply. His chest clenched. Angelica was the first person he told. It may have been a bad idea. “And like the expenses thing, this is confidential.”

He could see Angelica perking up, the way she did when she heard bad news. Vulture-like. He shut her down fast.

“The expression on your face is exactly what Peggy was trying to talk to you about,” he said.

The anger flooded back into her face. He cut her off before she could say anything.

“You do this thing where if someone has any form of bad news, you latch onto it like a leech. No one likes that, it feels like you are enjoying their suffering. And on some level, I think you know you do.”

“I do not-” Angelica began hotly.

“You do. I told you about my issues with expenses to get you to understand why I didn’t want you to get me a gift. I said you were allowed to buy Theodosia things, but not me. Instead, you went against my wishes and bought me something I did not want. And then, when I tried to ask you about it at dinner, you used the opportunity to make me look bad for not buying you a present and treated our previous conversation like a joke. You act like a leech. A vulture. I’m telling you this now so you understand what Peggy was trying to say.”

Angelica huffed. But she seemed less angry. More resigned.

“Talk to Peggy,” Aaron said simply. He had done his part. He left to find his daughter.

*

Hercules found Lafayette outside the hospital. Staring up at the sky. Clouds leaving his mouth as he breathed. The smell of lingering smoke on him.

“Laf?” he tried and Lafayette turned to look at him. Weary smile. Hercules felt the same. Between their fight, the flight and the whole of Christmas dinner, he kind of wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for a hundred years.

“Hi Herc,” the other man greeted and Hercules jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Indicated the people he had spent his evening with.

“You promised me general merriment,” he joked. He regretted it instantly when the other man’s smile dropped.

“I did, didn’t I?” he sighed. “God, I’m sorry, Hercules. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I dragged you into my whole mess of a life, made you come over and pretend to be my boyfriend, made you sit in the middle of a fight and now you’re waiting in the hospital because some guy Alex brought over collapsed-”

“About the boyfriend thing,” Hercules interrupted. “The kiss. You kissed me.”

His heart had pounded way too fast after that little display. He needed to talk to the other man about it.

Lafayette blinked, thrown off by the interruption. “That? I kissed you because we’re meant to be dating and you basically just told me you fell in love with me at first sight. If I didn’t kiss you, my friends would have raised questions.”

His heart tugged in his chest. “Oh,” he said. He couldn’t really find the words anymore.

The way Lafayette had looked at him after his monologue. His star struck look. Hercules had nearly fainted at the amount of adoration directed at him. He thought it had been real. He bit his lip.

Lafayette’s phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said. Walked a few steps away to take his call.

Hercules wanted to bang his head against the wall. Had he really fallen for someone he had met just a few hours prior? Fallen for someone who he had already fought with? Did he even know anything of substance about Lafayette? He couldn’t even name his birthday, for God’s sakes.

Lafayette caught his eye. Smiled. Hercules immediately smiled back. God, he was weak. And now he was lingering outside in the cold, waiting for the other man to finish his call, just so he could what? Confess his feelings? Walk back into the hospital together so there was the slight chance Lafayette would smile at him again? He didn’t know.

A subdued curse caught his attention. In the few moments he had looked away, Lafayette’s face had changed completely. He had reverted back to the weary expression he had worn originally. Scrubbed at his face as he argued down the line in furious French.

Finally, with a final guttural shout down the line, he hung up. Stuffed his phone into his pocket so he could bury his head in his hands. He does that a lot, Hercules realised.

His feet had made their decision for him, he found himself walking over to Lafayette. A comforting touch on his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked and Lafayette groaned.

“That was Adrienne,” he explained. “The woman I’m sleeping with. Her husband found out about me.”

“Oh shit.”

Lafayette shook his head. “No, you don’t get it.” His eyes were so tired. “He has been having an affair the whole time too. And now that he knows, Adrienne wanted to ‘celebrate’ by having me come over. While her husband is there.”

Lafayette’s face contorted in a series of ugly grimaces. “That’s not something I want,” he breathed. “I don’t want to do that. Couldn’t even if I wanted to, seeing as I’m not actually in France. And when I told that to Adrienne, she accused me of being jealous of her husband. Of overstepping my boundaries. ”

“Are you?” Hercules asked. “Jealous, I mean.” His heart felt like shattered glass. Another blow and it would be all over.

Lafayette groaned again. The smokers standing a little way further down are starting to look over. “I thought I was in love with her,” he said finally. “For a while there, I thought I was in love with her. Now, I don’t know.”

His lips felt overly dry. “Laf,” he tried. “Do you even want to keep seeing Adrienne?”

The other man looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-” God, his throat was closing up- “you could seeing someone else. Someone who could actually give you all of their time.”

Lafayette’s eyes were still sharp. Teeth bared. “Are you judging me again?”

He shook his head furiously. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean there are others who can and will give you all their time and attention. I’m just looking out for you.”

Lafayette laughed bitterly. “Why are you even looking out for me? You’re not actually my real boyfriend-” The realisation hit like a lightning bolt. It almost smelt like ozone. Lafayette’s eyes were wide with shock. The silence stretched for a beat too long.

Hercules stepped back. “I’m being stupid,” he muttered. “Ignore me. Merry Christmas.”

He turned on his heel and fled.

*

When Eliza saw Angelica approaching Peggy, the first words out of her mouth were, “Please do not.”

And now the three of them sat in tense silence, their positions mirroring their seats from Christmas dinner, with Eliza sat in the middle of Angelica and Peggy. Forever a meditator.

“I talked to Aaron,” Angelica began. Peggy didn’t respond. “He says I like to latch on to other people’s problems and find my enjoyment in their suffering.”

“You do.” Eliza. Texted away on her phone. Brows meeting in the middle.

Angelica sucked in a breath. “I think I do too.”

Peggy sat up straight in her uncomfortable hospital chair. “What.” Eliza put her phone down. Both of them stared at Angelica.

Angelica turned to her sisters. “I got fired from my job,” she said softly. Eyes darting left and right like someone is going to jump out at her and laugh at her misfortune. Peggy could almost laugh at the irony.

“I spent way too much money that I didn’t have on Christmas presents,” her older sister confessed. It came out on a shuddery breath. Angelica was holding back tears. “I don’t have enough to pay my damn bills for the month. I can’t find a job and I ruined Christmas dinner.” She sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Peggy left her chair, went to crouch in front of her sister. “Hey,” she coaxed softly. “Hey.” Angelica kept crying. Apologies fell from her lips nonstop. Eliza rubbed her back soothingly.

Peggy thought of John’s advice. Of taking the moral high road and donating her money to a charity. She wasn’t begrudging the work the charities do, but she thought she knew someone in her life who needed the money a little more.

“I’ll give you the money,” she blurted out. Angelica shook her head. Tears trailed down her cheek.

“I can’t take that from you,” she sobbed. Peggy gripped her hand. Angelica gripped it back. It reminded her of the two of them playing as children. Of Angelica being her big sister, helping her through school, being there for her when she needed her most. That one time in university when Peggy was so sure she wouldn’t be able to make it and came home and Angelica held her and let her cry into her shoulder for hours.

“It’s a Christmas gift,” she croaked. “Or compensation for how shitty you’ve been recently. Or both. Whatever. As long as you take the damn money, sis.”

Angelica sobbed again. Peggy surged up to hug her. Eliza cradled them both in her arms. They were all crying.

That was okay. They were getting better.

*

“You okay?” her father asked.

Theodosia looked up. Her nail polish was chipping under her incessant picking. “Not really.”

He sat next to her. Quietly plucked her hand away from her and held it in his. She leaned over to lean her head on his shoulder. He sagged under her weight. Or maybe it’s the weight of his burdens.

They tended to be the same thing.

“I should scold you for swearing,” her father said quietly. “But if you didn’t stop the fight, we might actually still be sat frozen around a cooling dinner, glaring at each other.”

Theodosia shook her head no. “Nah,” she replied just as quietly. “George would still have collapsed and we would still be here.” She could feel him nodding, before they both trail off into companionable silence.

Her brain won’t stop firing. A lot of words were getting lost in her brain.

“Dad?” she began. “I do actually have something to talk to you about.”

He looked down at her.

“I miss mum,” she admitted quietly. He sucked in a breath.

“I miss her too,” he whispered back and Theodosia could see tears pricking at his eyes. She was crying too.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’ll try harder my next semester, I promise.” He held her closer.

“I know, I know,” he cooed. “I believe you, sweetheart. There, there, it’s okay.”

She might not ever stop missing her mum, Theodosia thought to herself as she wiped her face. She could still feel a missing presence where her mum is meant to be, more so in this moment as her family bonded over their mutual grief. Felt her absence like a missing limb.

“Theodosia,” her dad mumbled. “I lost my job today.”

Her hands froze in his. She thought of the piles of bills on their shared desk. “I can get a job.”

He spluttered. “No, I don’t want you to do so. You’re starting to struggle in school, focus on that. I can get another job.”

“You’re going to real tired though,” she argued. “I can help out.”

“No,” he insisted firmly. “I’m not making you do that. I’m just telling you this because we might struggle for a while. I need you to understand that.”

Her father had done an admirable job of keeping their regular lives going when Mum died. But it wasn’t exactly a viable lifestyle for them. She could cope.

“I can cope,” she told him out loud. Kissed him on the cheek. He made a soft affectionate noise. “We’ll get through this.”

He sighed. “Thanks, Theo.” They went back to sitting in silence.

They’ll make it through.

*

They’re both in the waiting room. Watching people leave and enter the hospital. He couldn’t stop thinking about Christmas dinner. About all the food they left on the table.

Thomas prodded him in the side. “Stop worrying,” he whispered. He could still read him like a book.

He wasn’t just thinking about Christmas dinner, not really. He wass thinking about their life together. Up until Thomas had brought it up, he had completely forgotten about their plans to travel overseas. Had completely forgotten about their lack of a honeymoon.

When Hercules had been talking about meeting Lafayette for the first time, James couldn’t stop thinking about the first time he had met Thomas. An unconventional meeting, perhaps, seeing as Thomas had spilled his coffee all over James the first time he met. He still had an awful for purple, had been dressed head to toe in the damn colour. James told him he looked like Barney in a fit of rage. Thomas had only grinned.

They had been inseparable ever since.

He can still feel where Thomas had kissed him on his cheek. It’s not the first time Thomas had done that, just the first time in a while. The first time was about two months after they had first met, when Thomas, completely flustered in his attempt to ask James out on a date, had kissed him on the cheek in an attempt to explain how he felt.

He had been a little off, considering he had been aiming for his mouth, but landed on his cheek instead. From then on, they had kissed each others endless times. On the cheek, on the mouth, on places that weren’t polite to mention in company.

They had been so in love. What happened?

He found himself watching Thomas. Almost 20 years of marriage. They had known each other even longer. At what point did they drift away? At what point did they stop talking?

They knew each other too well. James could easily list a hundred, a thousand things he knew about Thomas without even pausing to think. And yet-

He nudged Thomas. “Sorry about your last Christmas,” he murmured. He meant it completely. The ill will from before had vanished.

Thomas shrugged. “S’okay.”

He was still watching him. He nudged his husband again. “We had a good run, didn’t we?”

Thomas turned to look at him. Jaded eyes. “I guess we did.”

“No one can say we didn’t try,” James said. It doesn’t ring true. Thomas shrugged. Turned back to look at the people walking in and out.

His mouth wass no longer his. “Let’s go on that trip.”

That got Thomas’ attention. He whipped around. “What?”.

His own hands were shaking. “I want to go on that trip.”

“You don’t have to,” Thomas tried but his eyes were bright with excitement.

“No, I want to,” James tried. “What you said today, about wanting us back. I want the same thing. I said no one can say we didn’t try, I think I’m wrong. I can say we didn’t try enough. I want to go to France. Let’s take that honeymoon. We’re owed that at least.”

Thomas still looked uncertain.

“It doesn’t have to be France,” James said. “You can just take me to dinner. Hell, take me to IHOP for all I care. But at least, I want to be fully able to say we tried to save our marriage before we gave it up as a bad job. We worked for 20 years before we didn’t. Let’s give us another shot.”

His husband’s hands were trembling as they reached up to touch his cheek. He looks about ready to sob. “Don’t use my words against me,” he whispers before he leans in.

One more try, James thinks to himself just before they kiss. One more try.

*

“Hercules! Wait!”

God, Hercules walked fast. Lafayette felt incredibly out of shape. He was sweating beneath his heavy coat.

“Hercules Mulligan, will you please turn around and listen to me!”

Hercules turned, but his feet kept walking. He retreated from Lafayette. “Look, I know, alright?” he yelled back. “I got in way too over my head, I’m sorry for trying anything. I’ll walk away and leave you alone.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to reply!”

Hercules stopped walking backwards. Hesitated for a moment before he stalked forward, until he is almost nose to nose with Lafayette. He towered over the other man, but Hercules had serious bulk on him. Lafayette felt like he should be shrinking under that.

“Please don’t fuck with me,” Hercules breathed. “Don’t fuck with me on this, alright?”

Lafayette opened and closed his mouth. Tasted the words on his tongue before they slipped out.

“When I saw him for the first time,” he said, “he tried to buy me a drink. I thought he was just some guy who didn’t understand boundaries. But for one whole day, even though we were complete strangers, he put up with me. Dragged me out of a bar, listened to me rant, forgave me even though I said some pretty inexcusable stuff. He came home with me when I begged him to-”

“I couldn’t get rid of you-”

“And somewhere along the way, I fell for this complete stranger. I think he is better than what I deserve, but I think he might be willing to give me his time and attention.”

Hercules smiled. Stretched out his hand. Lafayette grabbed it.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Hercules Mulligan. Can I buy you a drink?”

*

He is just about to order one last drink from the airport bar before the empty seat next to him is taken up by a guy. He is instantly enthralled.

“Can I get an amaretto sour, thanks,” the man directs at the bartender. Raf shrugs back in acknowledgement, gestures at John for his order. All available words flood out his head.

“Er, same as his, thank you,” he finally stammers out. The guy has turned to look at him.

He’s cute, John thinks wildly. Unwashed hair pulled back into a bun, neatly trimmed goatee framing his face. Slightly heavier bags under his eyes. Charming smile. He realises the guy is giving him the same once over. His heart raced in his chest.

_You deserve happiness_ , he remembered. _In all forms._ Someone had told him that, just a couple of months ago.

The guy offers his hand. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Alexander."

John blinks. Takes his hand. “I’m John,” he says.

Alexander grins.

**Author's Note:**

> I WROTE 21K WORDS IN 7 DAYS.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> My fandom tumblr is [here](http://bisexualexhamilton.tumblr.com) and my writing tumblr is [here](http://covetsubjugation.tumblr.com).
> 
> Merry Christmas and happy holidays!


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